Halo
by EvaMcBain2009
Summary: *Reposted* Story takes place six months after the events of Physician Heal Thyself. Callen, Jordan and the rest of the NCIS LA team must defeat a dangerous assassin.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Had to delete and repost because of a couple of glaring canonical errors.

NCIS LA and all its characters are the sole property of Shane Brennan and CBS. The only character that's mine is Jordan Harris. The title comes from the Beyonce song "Halo" This story takes place six months after Physician Heal Thyself.

HALO

Madrid:

Apartment: 6:00 p.m.

Zakhar Bessonov ambled around the small one-room apartment with his case in hand; ducking his head as he narrowly missed bashing his skull on a low hanging beam. Stopping at the open window he gazed out at the star filled night sky. A cool, gentle breeze caressed his face as it brought the heady aroma of bread baking from the restaurant next door. Quietly humming Prokofiev's 'Peter and the Wolf', he lay the case on the cream colored carpet and unhooked the clasp. Opening the lid, he took out the gun and silencer. Feeling the cool metal of the silencer against his fingers, he secured it onto the gun. He finished humming and stood up again placing the gun in the pocket of his long coat. Stretching his broad shoulders he gave a cursory glance at the stark white walls and sparse furnishings before moving toward his target again.

CIA operative Kenneth Phillips sat slumped over in a straight back chair with his hands tied behind him and his legs secured to the front of the chair. His cover was blown.

Zakhar's lip curled as hate and revulsion fought for dominance at the sight before him. Phillips was in his late forties, average height, with a slight paunch that strained against the undershirt he wore and thinning black hair that hung limply over his forehead. Watery blue eyes sat nestled in a round face with a bulbous nose and thin lips.

Standing in front of Phillips, Zakhar grabbed his chin, forcing the head back. His focus was on the angry welt at the temple; the beginning of a black eye and the broken nose. Keeping a firm grip on Phillips, he slid his gaze to his partner Ivan who leaned against the wall picking at a cuticle on his left hand. Ivan glanced up at Zakhar, then Phillips and back at Zakhar and merely shrugged before going back to the cuticle.

Rolling his eyes he turned his attention back to Phillips, "Где - Томас Келлер?" (Where is Thomas Keller?) Zakhar said his voice dripping with malice against Kenneth's ear.

"Я не знаю. Я клянусь, я не знаю, где он." (I don't know. I swear I don't know where he is.) He said, his breath coming out in short pants.

Zakhar's jaw tightened as he balled up his fist to slam it into Kenneth's stomach, causing the other man to cry out in pain.

"Лос-Анджелес. Пожалуйста остановитесь. Он находится в Лос-Анджелесе, Калифорнии." (Los Angeles. Please stop. He's in Los Angeles, California.) He said, barely able to speak.

Releasing the man's chin he picked up the roll of duct tape off the floor; ripping off a piece with his teeth he pressed the tape to Kenneth's mouth. Stepping back a few feet, he took the gun out of the coat pocket. Kenneth began to squirm, eyes wide and pleading, his cries muffled by the tape. "Позвольте дьяволу брать вашу душу" (Let the devil take your soul.) Zakhar said, before firing two shots into his chest causing him to jerk back in the chair with each shot; the blood splattering the once pristine white walls. Kenneth squirmed for a minute like a fish out of water, as the life force drained from his body.

Admiring his handiwork, he took the silencer off his gun and put both in the black case and shutting it closed. Taking out his cell phone from his pants pocket, he pushed a series of numbers and brought the phone to his ear. "Это сделано." (It's done.) Breaking the connection, he placed it back into his pocket. Picking up the black case, he threw one last glance at Kenneth Phillips before he and Ivan walked out of the apartment.

* * *

OSP: 7:30 a.m.

Gym

Tension filled the air as Jordan faced Callen across the mat. She took a defensive stance keeping her arms in front of her core, never taking her eyes away from her opponent. She didn't focus on the 'shock knife' in his right hand, but rather on the way he'd shifted his weight to the left.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up from a rush of adrenaline as he sprung to attack.

Jordan caught his wrist; twisting his hand back until he dropped the 'knife'. Kicking the 'knife' away while bringing his hand to the middle of his back; kneeing his lower spine to send him down to the ground.

Letting him go, she held out her hand to Callen, helping him back to his feet.

"Good job," Callen said grinning; shaking out his arm.

"Thanks, "she replied as a sense of pride washed over her at her accomplishment, the last three times they did this she'd ended up 'dead'.

"Now, one last thing," replied Callen picking up the 'gun' from the mat. "Turn around. How would you disarm an attacker that's behind you?"

Jordan turned around as he instructed, raising her hands while feeling the muzzle of the gun against the back of her head. Looking back slightly she noted that he held the gun in his right hand. Finding her center, she shifted her weight to the right quickly out of the line of fire. Seeing her chance while he was momentarily distracted, she raised her right arm and bringing it down against the wrist of his gun hand. Circling his wrist with her right hand, she lowered his arm down to the ground as her left hand fake slammed into the right side of his head. Callen lost his grip on the gun allowing Jordan to take it away and point the weapon at him.

.

"Slick move," Callen said impressed with how quickly she'd learned with their sparring sessions.

"Вы найдете, что я буду заставленным из неожиданностей, Агента Коллена." (You'll find I'm full of surprises, Agent Callen.) She countered; returning his smirk whileputting the gun down.

"Очень хороший. Вы практиковали." (Very good. You've been practicing.)He said, an electric thrill coursing through him at hearing her speak Russian. A grin lifted one corner of his mouth. "Your Russian is very good." He said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Jordan felt a blush burning her cheeks, "Thank you. I have an exceptional teacher." She said gazing into his eyes.

Dropping his hand from her shoulder and ducking his head slightly from her gaze, "Uh…thanks," he said, his heart thrumming at her words. He wasn't used to people saying those kinds of things to him.

"Morning G...Jordan," Sam said, strolling into the gym. "You guys are early," a puzzled expression on his face.

"Callen was just giving me a few pointers on how to disarm an attacker," she said, smiling warmly at Sam.

"Oh? How'd she do?" Sam said; his eyes on Callen.

"Uh…"

"I disarmed him twice. Once with the shock knife and again with the fake gun at the back of my head," Jordan teased, laughing at Callen's mock glare.

"Oh G…G…G I'm so ashamed. We might have to revoke in your 'Bad Ass' card," Sam said a bark of laughter escaping his lips. "So, is she NCIS material?"

"Eh…she's got potential I think," Callen said; turning his attention to Jordan and giving her a conspiratorial wink.

"All right, all right quit making me blush here." She said chuckling at their antics. "I'm going to hit the shower and get dressed before going to my meeting," she said looking at her watch.

"What meeting?" Sam asked.

"A debriefing with Agent Ross, at the FBI office, on that money laundering racket that we broke up this week," she replied.

"Have fun," Callen said waving the fingers of his right hand at her.

"Yeah right," she said nearly groaning at the thought sitting through a long, tedious meeting. "See you guys later." She threw out before exiting the gym.

Sensing his partner's gaze on him, Callen faced Sam who was standing there with arms crossed and a knowing grin on his face.

"What?"

Sam responded by shaking his head, "Since you're helping everyone out this morning; mind spotting me?" Sam said moving toward the weight bench."

"I guess I can spare a minute," Callen smirked.

His phone vibrating interrupted him. His brow creasing as he took his phone out of his pants pocket. _Who could that be? _ A tiny smile lifted the corner of his lips at seeing the text message from Jordan which read simply 'can't wait for dinner tonight.'

* * *

Office of the FBI:

Jordan pushed through the revolving door of the FBI building, the dry California heat assaulting her senses as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. The business district of the plaza, at the heart of L.A., was alive with people hustling to wherever they needed to go. Taking a left, she strolled toward the food truck just a few blocks down to pick up some lunch; something healthy before heading back to OSP.

Her thoughts immediately turning to Callen as a barely perceptible smile began tugging at her lips. He was coming over to her place and she was going to fix him dinner for the first time. So engrossed in her thoughts she accidently bumped into someone, causing him to drop his briefcase.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she said reaching down to pick up the case.

The man faced her, "It's alright, Miss. No harm done," he said.

Jordan noted that he had a Russian accent. Mentally cataloguing his appearance, a habit she developed during her police days, she saw that he was in his late thirties and quite tall, at least six foot five, with a muscular build that strained the black Armani suit he wore. _A black suit In this heat? _ His skin was very pale, not sickly, but very white, along with longish white hair.

"Again, I'm sorry for bumping into you. I'm usually not so clumsy,"

"No apologies necessary," he said an odd look settling on his face before disappearing completely. "Have we met before?"

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention as icy prickles of warning coursed through her veins. He wasn't outwardly threatening, but something was off.

"I don't think so," she said, slapping a smile on her face, "Thanks for being so forgiving. I really need to be going, have a good day," she said, keeping her strides at an even pace as she maneuvered around him and headed toward the crowd at the food truck.

Reaching her destination, she glanced back to see if that weird guy was still there. Satisfied that he was long gone, she moved to the window where a young woman, whose name tag said Mandy, stood ready to take Jordan's order.

"Good afternoon ma'am! Can I take your order?" Mandy said; a smile lighting up her face.

_Yes, don't call me ma'am again. _Mandy looked no older than 22 with long blond hair and cornflower blue eyes.

"Yes, I'd like a salad with grilled chicken strips with a side of vinaigrette dressing please," Jordan said, returning her smile.

"Would you like anything to drink?"

"An Ice tea, please."

Tallying up the total on the cash register, "The total comes to ten dollars and seventy-five cents."

Jordan shifted her purse on her shoulder, reaching in to take out her wallet before pulling out the exact amount. Five minutes later after receiving her food and drink, she turned around scanning again the plaza for any signs of that strange guy.

Mentally shaking herself for her paranoia she trotted toward the parking garage to her waiting car.

* * *

OSP:

Bullpen:

"How'd the meeting go?" Callen said lifting his head from his report as Jordan strolled into the bullpen.

Setting the salad and tea on top of her own desk; she faced him crossing her eyes.

"That good," he said chuckling.

They were interrupted by a shrill whistle coming from the top of the stairs.

"Everyone up to OPS!" Eric said before scurrying back into the inner sanctum.

OPS:

The team filed into the room making a line in front of the long table. Callen stood next to Jordan, Sam was at his left while Kensi and Deeks were at Jordan's right.

"What's the case Eric?" Callen asked folding his arms across his chest.

Eric swinging his chair around to face the group held up open palms, "Don't know. Our illustrious leader didn't tell me; just said to be sure that everyone was in OPS ASAP."

"Thank you, Mr. Beale," Hetty said gliding through the door with Owen Granger and Agent Tobias Fornell.

Callen watched them marching in. _Why is Fornell here?_

"Agent Tobias Fornell, this is my team," Hetty said, moving closer to the group, "You already know agent Callen of course…"

Callen nodded at Fornell, still curious as to why the man was here along with Granger.

Hetty continued moving down the line, "agent Sam Hanna, FBI liaison J…"

"Jordan Harris," Fornell interrupted shaking Jordan's hand. "We met once before. What was it…five years ago?"

"At least, sir" Jordan said, sensing Callen's eyes on her.

Hetty nodding her head continued with the introductions, "This is Agent Kensi Blye and LAPD liaison Martin Deeks."

"Good to meet all of you," Fornell said before stepping back to join Granger at the smart board.

Granger took the floor, "Two months ago FBI agent Carl Reynolds was found murdered execution style in a hotel room in Brussels," bringing up a photo of Carl Reynolds while continuing to speak. "Three weeks ago CIA agent Terrance Brown…" a picture of agent Brown appeared on the board, "…found murdered execution style in Berlin. Five days ago CIA agent Kenneth Phillips was found murdered execution style in an apartment in Madrid," Granger said the last photo appearing on the screen.

"How is this an NCIS case?" Sam said.

"Agent Brown was a former Navy Seal and one of my people," Granger said.

"At the last murder, a security camera caught who we believe are the people responsible," Fornell said, speaking for the first time. A grainy, security photo appeared on the screen of two men. One man was tall, about six foot two with shaggy brown hair, ruggedly handsome with a lean, angular face.

"Oh my G…" Jordan said her eyes widening as she stared at the image of the other man, "I ran into that man…the one with the white hair today!"

"What happened?" Callen said focusing his attention on Jordan.

"I was leaving the FBI office and heading to one of the food trucks to get lunch when I literally bumped into that guy making him drop his briefcase." Jordan said.

"Did he say anything to you?" Granger said.

"I apologized for bumping into him and he just waved it off. I noticed he had a Russian accent. There was something strange, he asked if we'd met before and he looked at me like he thought he remembered me from somewhere."

"Had you ever seen him before now?" Callen said.

"No, never," Jordan said turning her gaze to Callen.

"Nell, pull up satellite cam of the area," Callen said.

Running the footage of the business plaza they came to the part with Jordan bumping into the suspect.

"Dude seriously needs to spend some time in the sun," Deeks said grimacing.

"Looks like after she walked away from him; he headed away from the plaza, out of camera range," Nell said.

"We have to act fast, Tobias," Granger said before focusing his attention on the team, "The CIA received an anonymous Intel that there was a leak within the agency and we feel that there is another agent who may be in danger," Granger said pulling up Callen's old CIA picture, "Thomas Keller."

"I'm the next target?" Callen said staring at his image on the screen; his jaw clinching as fury burned in his gut at the thought of those murdered men. They were good people who didn't deserve to die that way.

"If you recall Mr. Callen, you and the other three men were part of a special task force that brought down two criminal enterprises. Mr. Granger, another FBI agent and I set up that task force. We need to contact that man so we can discover who ordered the hit as well as discover who the leak is at CIA headquarters," Fornell said moving toward Jordan, "We need to speak with your former partner Tom Manea. I assume you know how to contact him?

"Uh…yes, he lives in San Bernardino now. I can give you his number…"

"I think it would be best if you spoke with him first. The last time we saw each other he said in no uncertain terms that if I ever crossed his path again he'd ram a very pointy object where the moon doesn't shine," Fornell said.

"That sounds like him," Jordan said nodding her head.

"Once you've contacted Mr. Manea I think it would be wise to bring him back here for safety. Then we can move forward with our plan of action," Hetty said.

Callen mentally shook himself out of his stupor, "Sam, Jordan and I will go and get Tom Manea. Eric, see if you can get a line on who those two killers are and when they got here."

"On it," Eric said.

"Be careful out there," Hetty said pausing a moment before adding, "If he tries to be stubborn and not come along just tell him I said Berlin 1980."

"We will," Callen said the three of them charging out of OPS.

* * *

"I can't believe your former partner is Tom Manea," Callen said shaking his head.

"So, what is this Tom Manea like?" Sam asked.

"He's very intelligent, articulate, has a slightly sarcastic sense of humor, stoic, doesn't take to people easily but when he does he's your friend for life. He was an Air Force pilot before joining the FBI. Tom also enjoys a good bottle of Merlot and Italian food. He loves to go fishing and his favorite thing is building model rockets," she said.

"Intelligent, sarcastic sense of humor; doesn't take to people easily but is your buddy for life when he does. Kind of reminds me of someone," Sam said giving Callen a sidelong glance before making a right at the exit.

Callen turned his attention to Sam, his brow rising to his hairline, "Are you insinuating that I'm like Tom?"

"If the shoe fits."

"I don't have a sarcastic sense of humor. I have a great sense of humor," Callen said in an offended tone.

"You can be a little sarcastic," Sam said making a left at the corner.

"Ok, I admit I do use sarcasm sometimes. People get my jokes, they love my jokes."

"Fine. But it does take you a while to warm up to people." Sam said

"We hit it off right away…"

Jordan sat chuckling at the exchange as memories of countless car ride conversations between her and Tom came flooding back.

* * *

Twenty minutes later they pulled into a quiet residential neighborhood with two-story cookie-cutter detached houses. Turning left at Dresden lane they pulled in front of the house with the number 205 on the mail box.

Exiting the car, and making their way over the lush, manicured lawn to the front porch. Jordan moving to the front knocked on the door, "Tom? It's me Jordan." Grabbing the door knob, she turned pushing the door open and poking her head inside. "Tom?" she said walking in with Callen and Sam who had their guns drawn and ready.

Moving through the front entrance they came into the living room. A leather couch sat in the center of the room, behind the couch was a sliding glass door that looked out onto a small vegetable garden. On each side of the couch was and end table with a lamp. A round, glass coffee table was positioned in front of the couch. There were a few magazines and that day's L.A. Times lay open on the table. To their right was a fireplace. On the mantelpiece were family pictures.

"Want to give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you all right now?" said a deep voice from the vicinity of their left.

Callen and Sam whirled around aiming their guns at the tall man standing in the middle of the steps. In his right hand he was holding a Glock 22.

Jordan gently put her hands on Callen and Sam's wrists, pushing their guns down. Stepping forward with raised hands she said, "It would really suck if you shot us, Tom. And also this is my favorite blouse."

Lowering his gun, he sauntered down the steps. Reaching the bottom landing he placed the weapon on a nearby table before moving toward Jordan.

"I said one good reason," he said before a smiling and grabbing Jordan in a big hug.

Callen watching the hug noted great affection from between them; the father-daughter kind. Tom Manea was six foot two with a lean, wiry build. Tom was a well preserved sixty year old with a head full of black hair that held a touch of gray at the temples. He was olive skinned with a rugged angular face, strong chin and a straight nose. Dark, brown eyes beneath bushy brows flashed with intelligence, but there was a hint of sadness in their depths.

Letting Jordan go he focused on Callen and Sam, "Not that I don't love seeing you Jordan, but why are you here with…Callen right?" Callen nodded his head in agreement as Tom continued speaking, "and who is the other guy."

Moving back toward Callen and Sam she made the introduction, "This is Agent Sam Hanna. They're with NCIS."

Tom ambled over to the couch, gesturing to the two chocolate brown, curve backed arm chairs for Sam and Callen to sit in. Jordan joined Tom on the couch.

"Tom, three agents were murdered. FBI agent Carl Reynolds, CIA agent Terrence Brown and just recently CIA agent Kenneth Phillips; they were all killed execution style. Mr. Tobias Fornell said…"

"Tobias is in town?" Tom asked his brows rising.

"Yeah, he told us that you and he plus Mr. Owen Granger set up this task force that included those three men. There is also another agent they believe in danger," she said sliding her eyes to Callen.

"I see. Why come see me?"

"Hetty Lange thinks you could be in danger too and wants you to come back with us to NCIS headquarters," Sam said.

"Ah, you work for Hetty Lange. Look I can take care of myself, I've never run from anything in my life and I'm not about to start now," Tom said, his tone indicating he wasn't backing down.

"Hetty said you might do this. She said to tell you Berlin 1980." Jordan said, wondering what on earth had happened in Berlin in 1980.

Rising up from the couch he glared at the three of them, "That's just fighting dirty Jordan Olivia Harris. I expected better of you!" He said moving around the coffee table and the arm chair where Sam sat before charging up the stairs with the three of them gaping after his retreating form. Stopping at the middle of the stairway he looked back at them, "There's beer and a pitcher tea in the fridge in the kitchen. I need to pack a few things and get my rocket kit." He said before stomping all the way up the stairs.

* * *

OSP Headquarters:

"Ah…good to see you again Thomas," Hetty said greeting them as they entered headquarters. Owen Granger and Tobias Fornell were standing behind her.

"Good to see you as well, Henrietta," Tom said bending down to hug the petite woman. Standing back up he gave a curt nod to Granger and Fornell, "Owen…Tobias."

"Hello Tom," said Granger, his expression impassive.

"Tom," Fornell said.

Jordan snuck a look to Callen and Sam who just shrugged their shoulders. The tension between Tom and Tobias was thick enough to cut with a knife. Kensi and Deeks came from around the corner to join the group.

"Now that we're all here we all need to work together. I'm sure we can put aside petty grievances for the sake of the mission, right Thomas…Tobias?" Hetty said her hawk like eyes traveling between the two men.

Tom gazed at the diminutive woman, his brow rising, "What are you getting at, Henrietta?"

"What I'm getting at is that for now the team needs to be in one place so to speak. I have a place that is safe, private and functional." Hetty said.

"A safe house?" Callen said speaking up, "For all three of them?"

"For Mr. Fornell, Mr. Manea and you as well Mr. Callen; and no room for arguments," Hetty said when he started to object.

"Granger won't be at the safe house?" Callen asked, a rush of relieve washing over him.

"No, he's staying here," Hetty said holding back a smile knowing the younger man probably hated the thought of staying under the same roof for extended periods of time with Owen Granger.

"Miss Harris, Miss Blye and Mr. Deeks you will also be there as lookouts," Hetty said. Looking back at Tom and Tobias she turned back and motioned Jordan to bend down so she could speak in her ear, "Make sure Tom and Tobias don't end up killing each other."

Jordan went back to her standing position, "I'll try my best," she said a grin lifting the corners of her mouth.

* * *

That evening:

Safe House:

Sam drove them to the address that Hetty had given them; taking back roads to ensure no one followed them. After pulling onto the lane leading them to the safe house; Jordan's jaw dropped at seeing the behemoth structure seemingly rising from the sandy dune. Jordan turned her attention to the others in the car and saw they were having the same reaction as she.

After saying goodnight to Sam and watching as his black truck with the tinted windows disappear into the night; they all shuffled up the walkway to the large ornate double doors.

The safe house was more like a safe mansion. It was 4,280-square-feet of heavenly space and a massive view of the ocean. The front entrance led to a double decker living room with supported glass walls. The furniture was a harmonious collaboration of white and teak. Near the panoramic window sat an obsidian coffee table encompassed by four white love seats one each side and a white couch that pulled out into a bed at one end. On the other side was a long, teak dining room table with six chairs. Here was the command center with a desk that was located at the back wall of the living room. There was a computer setup that showed the ground outside from every angle.

Off of the living room to the left was a spacious kitchen with chrome appliances and ceramic countertops. From every room of the house there was a spectacular view of white sand and crashing surf.

A spiral staircase led to four bedroom suites that had their own bathrooms and a balcony; two bedrooms on the left side of the hall and two bedrooms on the right.

"Whoa!" said Deeks giving the living room a once over, "I could get used to a place like this."

"Don't get too attached," Callen said, giving him a warning look, "Once this is over its back to reality."

"Way to burst my bubble," Deeks muttered.

"Aw maybe Hetty will let you visit sometimes," Kensi teased.

"Whatever," Deeks said shifting his duffle and sleeping bag on his shoulder, "I call dibs on the upstairs room to the right."

"Sorry Deeks, we have seniority so we get the rooms upstairs," Callen said indicating Tom, Fornell and Jordan.

"So unfair."

"Life's not fair sometimes," Callen said smirking. "OK. Let's decide who gets what room and which team mans the monitors tonight?"

* * *

Later that evening:

Bedroom:

Callen dropped his duffle next to the chest of drawers in the room, chuckling over Deeks losing the coin toss on who watched the monitors tonight. Scanning the room he took in the king-sized bed in front of him with the white down comforter. Two night tables with a tiffany lamp flanked each side of the bed. A small walk-in closet was on the right side of the bed. To the left of the drawers was a full bathroom. A wide-screen T.V. was on the wall above the dresser. Going to the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony, he grabbed the handle sliding the door back. Taking a deep breath, the tangy scent of the salt water filled his nostrils.

Stepping back into the room, he noticed another door next to the bathroom. Padding forward on the plush, beige carpeting he tried the handle and opened the door; discovering that it lead to another room. "Sorry, didn't know there was another room."

"It's alright. Come on in," Jordan said waving him in. She was sitting on a peach colored divan by the bed watching TV.

Moving closer he settled down on the divan next to her.

"Don't have one of these in my room." He said checking out the seat.

"Maybe each room doesn't have one," she said gazing into his eyes, "Not exactly how we planned this evening, huh?"

"Guess not," he said chuckling. "This isn't too bad. Great place with a nice view; too bad it couldn't be under different reasons."

"True."

"How long were you and Tom partners?" Callen said settling back in the seat.

"About eleven years," she said a smile forming on her face. Callen loved it when she smiled; it seemed to brighten up the room.

"You two seem really close from what I could see."

"We're close friends; he really helped me through a dark period."

Callen felt an irrational ping of jealousy that Tom could help her through a difficult time and not him.

"Good to have someone like that especially with our jobs."

Jordan nodded in agreement.

"What's the deal with him and Fornell?"

"I have no idea. I only met him once and that was briefly. Whatever went down must have been pretty big," She said rubbing her chin.

"In a fight I think my money's on Tom," Callen said making Jordan laugh.

Callen reached out his hand pushing the fringe of hair off of her forehead before planting a gentle kiss.

"What was that for, not that I mind?" She asked, her heart strumming at his touch.

"I just wanted too," he said tilting his head and studying her, "I wonder."

"What."

"What would it have been like if we'd been FBI partners when I was still with the agency?"

Jordan propped her head on her hands, narrowing her eyes as she considered the question, "We would have been amazing. Mulder and Scullly would have nothing on us," she said grinning.

"Unbeatable, huh?"

"Unmatchable. No one would be able to touch us," She said her hands moving over his.

"Sounds like a great team."

"The best."

* * *

Hotel Room: California

Zakhar lay on the bed with the sheet only over his hips. His mind went back to the woman he's seen earlier today. _I've seen her before I know I have; but where."_

TBC:

Hope you all liked the first chapter. Please review and more to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Callen awoke to bright, golden sunlight streaming into the room through the sliding glass door. Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he realized that this wasn't his room; it was Jordan's. The last thing he remembered was watching 'The Maltese Falcon' on television with her last night. Sometime during the movie he must have fallen asleep on the couch.

He then noticed a pleasant weight on top of him. Looking down he found Jordan, asleep, with her head resting on his chest; her right arm was thrown across his middle while his right hand rested protectively on her back. Callen's eyes roamed over her beautiful face, taking in how her long, thick lashes fanned out against the curve of her cheekbones; the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took; the soft snores escaping her parted lips. A grin formed on his face at the sight; one he found he wouldn't mind seeing every morning.

Jordan began shifting in her sleep for a few seconds, and then her eyes fluttered open. She became instantly aware that she was lying against a rock hard chest, lifting her head she saw Callen smiling down at her.

"Morning," he said.

"Good morning," she said, returning his smile as she moved up to a seating position; hating to leave the comfort of his arms, "Looks like we both passed out last night."

"Think so. Don't even remember the movie."

"What time is it?" she said running her hands over her hair to smooth it down.

"Six o'clock," he said, turning his wrist to check his watch.

"Been up long?"

"No, just got up a few minutes ago," he said smirking.

"What?" she said, her curiosity piqued at that smirk.

"It's nothing…really. You uh… snored a little; heard it just before you work up," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I don't snore!" she insisted, giving him a playful push on the arm.

"How do you know, you're asleep?" he said, laughter bubbling inside of him at her indignant expression, "It was kind of cute actually. Sort of like the purr of a kitten."

Jordan's mouth opened and closed a few times before she covered her face with her hands, "I don't snore!"

"Maybe that's what I'll call you 'kitten'," he teased.

"If you value your limbs, you'll never call me 'kitten'," she said, uncovering her face and throwing him a mock warning glare.

"Alright, how about 'J'? I'm 'G' and you could be 'J'."

Jordan considered that for a moment, "Not bad; better than 'kitten'." She said smirking.

"Or, I could continue calling you Jordie," he said leaning closer.

"That would be just fine, Callen," she said gazing into his eyes.

"You know…you can call me 'G'," Callen said.

"G it is then," she smiled, leaning into him as their lips melded for a deep kiss.

"Nice way to start the morning," she said sighing after breaking the kiss. "We better get a move on; Sam will be here soon to take us all to work."

"Right, meet you downstairs," he said grabbing another kiss before rising from the couch to go to his room.

* * *

Living room:

"Morning, Kensi. Morning, Deeks." Jordan said going over to the table where they stood.

"Hi Jordan," Kensi said smiling around a mouthful of blueberry muffin.

"Hey Jordan," Deeks said sliding a look at Kensi before turning his attention back to Jordan, "As you can see, my partner has already attacked the bakery box."

Kensi just rolled her eyes while continuing to eat her muffin with gusto.

Said bakery box lay open on the table; peering inside she saw an assortment of scones and muffins.

"How was watch duty last night?" Jordan said, picking up a raspberry scone for herself.

"Morning all," Callen said coming up from behind Jordan and picking up one of the Styrofoam cups of coffee.

"Morning," said Kensi, Deeks and Jordan.

"It went fine until someone stole the pull out couch from their partner and said partner had to sleep on the hard floor in a sleeping bag," Deeks said cutting his eyes to Kensi.

"I didn't steal anything. I won the rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock fair and square. Lizard poisons Spock." Kensi said with a smug smile.

"Spock should be invulnerable to the poison of a mere lizard," Deeks pouted.

Throwing up her hands she moved away from the table with Deeks following her still arguing his case.

"Those two," Jordan chuckled, taking a bite of her scone.

"They're like five year olds." Callen said shaking his head.

"Hi guys," Sam said appearing at the table along with Tom, "What's with them?"

"Morning Sam…Hi Tom," Jordan replied.

"Hey," Callen said in greeting, "They were fighting about lizards and Spock or something."

"Oh. We'd better get going Eric said he has info on those two guys," Sam said.

"Let's go," Callen said before following Sam and the others to the van.

* * *

OPS:

"What have you got Eric?" Callen said.

Tom, Granger and Fornell stood near the smart screen. The rest of the agents were milled around the room.

"It took some doing but we were finally able to find out that these two came into Los Angeles from Switzerland on Swiss Air flight 704 two days ago." Eric said pulling up the pictures with the names. The names on the tickets were Bernardo Ricciardi for the white haired man and Antonio Marcovicci for the other man. "I ran facial recognition and came up with nothing. It's like they don't exist."

"Those names are aliases most likely," Jordan said eyeing the white haired man's photo.

"I agree," Callen said studying Bernardo's picture. The man's ice colored eyes along with the snow white skin made a macabre image. "Any ideas where they might be staying?"

"Negative, they seem to be keeping a low profile," Nell said looking at her tablet.

"Keep an eye out for them. Ricciardi may show up in the business district again. He was there for a reason yesterday." Callen said.

"One of the two cases that the task force was part of involved Emil Oliver, "Tom said as the picture of Oliver showed up on screen. Oliver, at the time of his arrest in 2002, was thirty eight years old; he was of average height and weight. The picture showed a man with a round face, ruddy complexion and thin lips, hooded sea-green eyes beneath dark brows. His sandy hair was cut businessman short.

"He was a self-made millionaire by the time he was twenty-five by starting an investment firm and turning it into one of the largest money making enterprises in the country. His crimes were investment adviser fraud, money laundering; embezzling money from share-holders to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands. Oliver is currently serving his thirty-five year sentence in San Quentin." Tom said. "I don't think he's the one we should be looking at for the killings."

"Here's the next one," Fornell said as the picture of another man showed up on screen. The photo showed a fair skinned man in his early thirties with a round face, pointed nose, full lips and soft chin. Deep set, sea green eyes peeked out beneath thick, straight dark brows. His short hair was jet black and curly.

"I remember this one," Callen said taking a breath before continuing, "Stephan Galipova was born into money. He received the best education at the finest Ivy League schools; after college he started working for his father at Galipova Global. The old man was already involved in questionable business practices. Stephan Galipova took over as CEO when his dad died and after a number of years turned to other interests…Drug trafficking, attempting to win a contract to sell a variety of military products such as M4 carbine rifles, tear gas grenades, and armored vehicles, by bribing overseas officials and ties with the Russian mob."

"Charming," Kensi said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It took us a year but we finally took him down and his two associates Anton Polzin and Kurtis Collingwood. " Callen said as two more pictures popped up on screen. "Galipova was given 30 years while both Polzin and Collingwood received fifteen."

"Maybe Galipova somehow recruited Ricciardi and Marcovicci to commit the murders." Sam said.

"Afraid not, Galipova was killed by a fellow inmate five years into his sentence. Both Polzin and Collingwood were released about two ago. Collingwood is now working part-time at his cousin's construction company. So far he's been staying out of trouble. Polzin left the country after his probation was over." Nell said looking up from her tablet.

"Sam and I will talk with Collingwood. Kensi and Deeks you check out his home." Callen said. Turning his attention to Nell and Eric, "Find out where Polzin had ended up now."

"No, Mr. Callen. Miss Harris and Mr. Hanna may speak with Mr. Collingwood. Remember, you are also a target of this assassin." Hetty said; her eyes trained on her senior agent.

"Hetty, I'm not running," Callen said, standing firm against Hetty's glare, "I still have a job to do…Jordan can come with us and I'll stay in the car like a good little agent," giving her his best innocent look.

Hetty knew him well enough to not buy that look, "Very well, Mr. Callen. Take the car with the darkened windows, and stay in the car," she said, putting emphasis on the last four words.

Callen gave her a nod before he, Jordan and Sam got the address of the construction company and left Ops. Before leaving headquarters, they stopped at the armory to pick up the ear wigs and mics.

* * *

Pierce Construction:

Thirty minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of Pierce Construction. It was a 13,750 square foot two- story brick building surrounded by manicured bushes and a patch of lush green grass.

"Nice," Sam said giving a low whistle as he opened up the driver side door to get out.

"Good luck and if you have any trouble just yell." Callen said to them both as Jordan opened her door from the back seat.

"We will," she said giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before exiting from the back seat.

Sam and Jordan walked up the stone walkway to the glass door that held the name Pierce Construction. Once inside they strode across the red carpeting to the front desk where a bored looking secretary sat filing her nails. The woman, whose name tag said Trudy, looked to be in her mid-twenties dressed in a low cut green blouse that accentuated her huge boobs. Her two-toned dark blond hair fell to her shoulders.

"Excuse me, NCIS I'm agent Hanna and this is agent Harris," Sam said flashing his badge; Jordan did the same.

Trudy's brown eyes brightened when she looked at Sam, her red lips forming into a huge smile.

"Hi! How can I help you?" Trudy said her voice sounding breathless.

"We were wondering if you could tell us if Kurtis Collingwood was in today." Jordan said holding back her grin at the obvious flirting Trudy was doing with Sam.

Trudy looked at her with disdain for a second before answering in a crisp tone, "Second floor, room two oh seven. Elevators down the hall to your right."

"Thanks miss." Sam said turning to head for the elevators with Jordan.

"You can call me Trudy. Let me know if I can be of more help." Trudy called out waving her fingers.

Sam just gave her a slight smile and moved on down the hall to the elevators. When the door opened they stepped inside; Jordan pressed the button for the second floor.

"Sounds like someone has a crush on you Sam," Callen's teasing voice said in their ear pieces.

"Shut up," Sam said without much bite to his tone.

"Trudy was looking at him like he was the last pork chop on the plate," Jordan replied grinning.

"Et tu Brute." Sam said hiding his own smile.

"I'm sorry, I'll behave," Jordan said pulling an innocent expression.

"G has been a bad influence on you," Sam replied with a teasing grin.

"Hey! I can hear you," G's voice said with obvious humor.

The elevator dinged as it arrived at the second floor. After exiting they took a left; walking down the hallway until they reached room 207. The sign on the door said payments and accounts. Sam knocked on the door. A male voice on the other side said "Come in." Sam and Jordan entered the 10 by 15 square inch room. There were two oak desks, one by a large window that looked out onto the highway. On the opposite wall was another desk that was currently unoccupied. To the right was a wok station that held a copy machine and a water cooler. The left was a door that led to another office.

"Kurtis Collingwood?" Sam said showing his badge, "NCIS I'm agent Hanna and this is agent Harris," he continued as Jordan flashed her badge also.

Kurtis Collingwood was forty-two years old but looked a decade older. His weary blue-grey eyes glanced at their badges and identification, "What's going on?"

"We just wanted to ask you a few questions," Jordan said studying the man closely.

Sam pulled out the photos of the suspected killers Bernardo Ricciardi and Antonio Marcovicci and laid them on the desk in front of Polzin, "Do you recognize these two?"

Collingwood studied the photographs for a moment before looking back up at them, "I've never seen them before in my life. Have they done something?"

"They're suspects in the execution style killings of an FBI agent and two CIA agents. We believe that they were hired guns." Sam said.

"What's that got to do with me?" Collingwood said, looking confused.

"The men killed were the ones who brought down Galipova." Jordan replied.

He looked from Sam to Jordan, "You…you think I had something to do with this!"

"You and Anton Polzin were brought down along with Galipova. Your career and reputation destroyed. After getting out of prison maybe you decided to take revenge…" Sam said.

"Look, whatever happened to these men I had nothing to do with it! I did my time and I'm just trying to get my life back together as best as I can."

"Have you had any contact with Polzin since your release?" Jordan said.

"No, after I got out of prison I just wanted to put the past behind me. My cousin was good enough to get me a job here when everyone else shut the door in my face. I've got a good thing going so far and I'm not going to mess it up." He said pausing briefly to take a breath, "I knew Stephan was into some shady stuff and did nothing to stop him; I got caught up in the money and the power so I just looked the other way. I paid my dues and want to get on with my life so whoever you're looking for it is not me."

"Thank you for your time." Jordan said as both she and Sam turned to leave the office.

* * *

Callen sat in the car listening to the exchange, looking up he spotted a black car in the rearview window. Turning around in his seat he could see the car parked across the street near a Laundromat, the windows were darkened so you couldn't see inside. As if the driver knew they had been spotted, the car pulled away from the curb, taking a left and headed down the highway.

_Probably nothing_ he thought before seeing Jordan and Sam exiting the building.

"Get to say good bye to Trudy?" Callen said smirking after Sam opened the door to get into the driver's seat and Jordan in the back.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," Sam said rolling his eyes as he put the car in drive and pulled out into the street.

* * *

"How did Collingwood look to you?" Callen asked.

"Unless he's an expert liar, he seemed to be telling the truth." Jordan said.

"That was my impression too," Sam said making a turn at the exit, "Seemed like he was trying to fly right."

"Wonder if Kensi and Deeks found out anything," Callen said.

OPS:

"Did you get anything at his place?" Callen said to Kensi and Deeks after going over what happened during the meeting with Collingwood.

"We found his laptop in the living room and downloaded the hard drive," said Kensi.

"Talked to the neighbors and they all said that he was a nice guy, quiet and just kept to himself," Deeks said.

"Nothing out of the ordinary was found on the laptop; some hits for job searches and online games. Phone records showed phone calls mostly to his probation officer and family." Nell said.

"Still keep an eye on him; there could still be something there that we're overlooking." Callen said. "Find out anything on Polzin?"

"Actually yes; he settled in London and works at a small consulting firm." Eric said.

"Keep tabs on him too," Callen said.

* * *

Later that evening:

Safe House:

Jordan and Callen were on watch duty while Kensi and Deeks got to have the upstairs rooms. Looking around she saw Tom working at the table on his rocket model.

"Has he ever fired off one of those rockets?" Callen whispered, following Jordan's gaze.

"I don't think so. Think he just likes making them" she whispered back, turning her gaze back to him, "Would be sort of cool to see one go up."

"Yeah, it would." He agreed, glancing back at the monitors, "Quiet night."

"Hope it stays that way," she chuckled.

"Me too."

They settled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes. The silence was broken when Jordan gasped, "Look at that!" she said pointing out the window. Across the beach there was a fireworks display.

"I've always loved watching fireworks," Jordan said glancing back at Callen who seemed deep in thought. "You ok?"

"Yeah, just remembering something," he said, his attention going from the window back to her face. "I think I was about nine and this one foster home was better than some of the others. It was run by a single mom, her name was Elizabeth. She had a son named Rick who was my age and was pretty cool. Anyway it was the fourth of July and that night she fixed up a picnic basket filled with sandwiches and soda. We drove out to the park; sat on the hood of the car and ate while watching the fireworks. It was the best night I could remember."

"Sounds like a wonderful memory." Jordan smiled. "I know you don't like talking about your past much but I'm glad you felt you could share that with me."

Callen gazed into her beautiful eyes seeing what his trust and honesty meant to her. Looking to see if Tom was still at the table and noting that the man wasn't there at the moment; he leaned forward to capture her lips in a sweet kiss. "I've wanted to do that all day." He said his voice low and husky.

"Interesting, I've wanted you to do that all day," She chuckled rising up from her seat, "Want anything from the kitchen? I'm going to get something to drink."

"I'm good thanks," he grinned turning his attention back to the screen.

Kitchen:

Jordan entered the kitchen to find Tom already there leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in hand.

"Hey Tom," Jordan said, moving to the fridge to get a bottled water.

"Hi," he said taking a sip of his drink; his dark eyes watching her.

Jordan unscrewed the top of the water bottle and took a long pull. "Alright, out with it."

"Out with what?"

"I was your partner for eleven years and know when something's on your mind," she smirked.

Tom chuckled in response, "Ok…. Is there something going on between you and Callen?"

"W…what makes you think that?" she said lowering her gaze.

"Come on Jordan, I may be old but I'm not stupid. I've seen the way you two look at each other sometimes."

"Fine; yes we're seeing each other. But, we're keeping it out of the office and taking things one step at a time."

"Dating a coworker? Sometimes that can lead to trouble."

Jordan moved closer to the man who'd been a friend and second father to her, placing her hand on his arm, "What's really troubling you?"

"I don't know a lot about him, but he doesn't know his first name or much of his past and he can be a bit of a lone wolf. I…I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I appreciate you looking out for me but I'm a big girl and can take care of myself," she said with a smile. "He's a good man. In fact you two are alike in some ways."

Tom's eyebrow rose at that, "How?"

"You're both natural born leaders; will fight for what you believe in; fiercely loyal to those you care about; marches to the beat of your own drummer…don't give me that look 'Mr. joined the Air Force and then the FBI instead of going to work at his father's deli like his two older brothers.'" Jordan said ticking off each quality on her fingers. "Also, underneath that tough guy exterior is a gentle heart and good soul."

Tom set his coffee cup down on the table before pulling Jordan into a hug. "Sorry kid, just looking out for you," he said letting her go.

"Don't worry so much," she smiled.

He studied her face for a moment, "Anyone who can put the light back into your eyes like that must not be all bad," he smiled picking up his cup before leaving the kitchen.

* * *

Two days later:

Bull pen: Morning

"You have to go in today?" Callen said.

"Yes, have some paperwork to do and then I'll run by my place to pick up a few things," she said smiling.

"Got some paperwork of my own too, so I'll see you when you get back," he said returning her smile.

"See you later," she replied grabbing her bag off her desk and moving for the exit.

Callen looked up from his finished reports and dropped his pen on the desk. Rolling the kinks out of his neck, he glanced around the bullpen. Sam was going through his e-mails, Deeks was reading the paper and Kensi was doing her own report. With no new developments with the case yet and no other cases, it was a slow day.

He was feeling a little off today, it wasn't something he could pinpoint exactly but it was a feeling he couldn't shake. Maybe it was excess energy that needed letting out; shooting a few rounds might help.

Pushing himself away from his desk he headed to the gun range without a word.

Gun Range:

Callen adjusted his goggles and headset. Raising his gun he fired center shot into the paper target and finished off with the head shots. Taking off the goggles and headset, he pushed the button to bring the paper target forward. Removing the target from the clasps he studied his score. Turning, he moved to the door to step outside heading for the table. Taking the rag he started cleaning the gun until it was gleaming. Rising from his seat he headed back to the bull pen.

Bullpen:

When he walked in he already sensed something was wrong. The team was standing around the television. Tom, Fornell and Granger were there also. Eric and Nell stood next to each other. Nell looked paler than usual.

"What's going on?" Callen said looking at the screen where there was a news reporter standing near a burned out townhouse.

"…explosion at Lakeview terrace. There are reports of one casualty and a few injuries as well as property damage. The injured have been taken to an area hospital…

"That's where Jordan lives," Callen said icy fingers of panic filling him.

"I just got off the phone with Agent Ross of the FBI." Hetty said appearing next to Nell. "Jordan Harris was killed an hour ago by a bomb planted in her apartment."

"Are they sure it's her?" Callen said not recognizing his own voice.

"Yes. Among the ruins, her bag was found containing her badge and identification. As it was told to me, the heat of the blaze was so intense there was nothing left of her body," Hetty continued, her voice steady in spite of the pain evident in her eyes.

Kensi gasped moving to her desk to sit down, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Tom sat down on the couch, his face drained of color. Deeks and Sam looked to be in the same shape as Kensi.

"Do we know who did this?" Sam said.

"No," Eric said taking a shuddering breath, "Security footage was also destroyed."

Callen had to get out of there away from the sorrowful expressions. Stumbling back, he headed down the hall ignoring Sam's voice calling out to him. He stopped at the door of one of the private bathrooms. Opening the door he let himself in.

It had to be a mistake. Grabbing at his cell phone he pushed the number for Jordan. It rang once and went to voicemail, her voice saying 'This is Jordan, leave your name, number and message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.' He nearly threw the phone across the room.

Jordan was dead. He'd never hear her laugh again, smile again or see her look at him in that special way. The thought of her burning came to him in a rush; the acrid smell of burnt flesh and hair assailed him. Rushing to the toilet he knelt down and heaved up the contents of his stomach. Resting his head on his forearm against the rim of the bowl, he felt tears at the corners of his eyes.

Callen got up from the floor dragging himself to the sink. Turning on the faucet he cupped his hands beneath the cool running water and splashed his face. Grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser he dried his face. Looking at his image in the mirror, Callen saw that his face was pale and his eyes looked haunted. Holding the edge of the sink, he bowed his head as a choked sob ripped itself from his chest.

_Let it be yesterday. Please make it yesterday._

* * *

That evening:

Safe house:

The drive back to the safe house was somber. Callen only stared straight ahead; vaguely aware of quiet conversations behind him. Pulling the car into the driveway and parking, Sam followed the rest of them inside the house.

Callen felt like everything was moving in slow motion, he just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again.

Suddenly there was a vibrating of his phone, "What the hell," he said taking his cell out of his pants pocket. Looking at the display he saw a text message that said, 'Hanson Park. There's a cabin, come alone. Jordan.'

"G? What's going on?" Sam said seeing his partner's wide eyes.

"She's… alive. Look," he said showing Sam the display. Tom hearing what Callen said came closer to the younger man.

"G, this could be some sort of trap."

"What if it isn't" Callen argued as hope surged through him.

"You're not going alone, I'm going with you." Sam said.

"I'm going too," Tom said.

"No Tom, you're staying here. Like Sam said it could be a trap." Callen said, his temper flaring.

"The hell I will. I may be retired but I still know a few tricks. Now we can stand here and argue whose is bigger or we can get Jordan," Tom glared.

Callen stared at the man and sighed, "Let's go."

* * *

Hanson Park:

Twenty minutes later Sam parked the van against a huge tree that was near the cabin. Callen was next to him and Tom in the back seat. The cabin was small no more than three hundred square feet of white cedar. There was light from the two front windows.

Callen got his gun out and opened the car door. "You and Tom look around back and see if there's another entrance; I'll take the front." He said.

Sam and Tom nodded getting their own guns out and ready. All three exited the van, Callen made his way to the front door while Sam and Tom headed around the back.

Callen felt the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. His gun lowered to his side he scurried up the front steps with movements quick and sure as a jungle cat. Hunkering down he maneuvered himself beside the door, peering inside the left window. All he saw was a table with a chair next to it. Turning his body to face the door, he brought his gun in front of him. Lifting his right leg he kicked the door in rushing over the threshold. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another figure. Swinging his gun to the right he saw a man standing against the wall. He was tall with shaggy brown hair, it was Antonio Marcovicci one of the killers they were looking for.

Marcovicci had his hands up, "Wait."

Callen's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed, white hot rage filled him to the core. Sam was right it was a trap. Rushing toward Marcovicci, Callen had him pinned against the wall with his gun pointing at the center of his chest.

"G don't!" Jordan said, placing her hands on his left arm.

Callen turned his head, looking into her beautiful eyes; relief washed over him like a waterfall it was nearly overwhelming. That feeling soon turned to confusion. He then saw Tom and Sam enter the room.

Placing her hand over his gun she pushed his hand down, "He's one of us."

tbc.

Hope you all liked this chapter. Sorry it took so long to put it up, a combination of work and writers block got hold of me. Please review and more coming soon.


	3. Chapter 3

HALO PART 3

Callen inched backwards from Marcovicci, his gun resting against his thigh while his gaze switched from Marcovicci to Jordan, "He's one of us? He's a Fed!"

"CIA," Marcovicci answered pushing himself away from the wall, "You were supposed to tell him to come alone," he admonished, glaring at Jordan.

"I did, but I knew he'd never come without backup," Jordan snapped back.

"I like to have something in my back pocket just in case there's trouble, Marcovicci." Callen added with an evil smirk.

Marcovicci sighed, turning his attention to Callen, "Very well then; first things first my name's not Antonio Marcovicci its Dylan."

"First or last name," Callen asked, sizing up this Marcovicci/Dylan or whatever the hell he was calling himself.

"It's just Dylan. Secondly like I said before I'm with the CIA in the private sector. The people I work with are clandestine, we move in the shadows so not a lot of people know about us even within the agency itself." He finished.

"Huh, Black Ops then," Sam stated, speaking up for the first time.

"Yeah, the other man with me is an evil son of a bitch by the name of Zakhar Bessonov who is a body guard for the person I'm trying to bring down. I'm also working as one of his bodyguards." Dylan replied running his hands through his hair, "For the past six months I've been undercover gathering information on Denis Sokoloff, a Russian mobster. He claims to be a legitimate businessman now, but there were whispers of his involvement with a fringe terrorist group in the US."

"So Sokoloff is the one who ordered the hit on those agents," Callen remarked, his voice low and deceptively calm.

"I don't think so, Sokoloff provided the means but I don't think he's the one who made the hit." Dylan answered. Seeing their disbelieving expressions he continued, "But, I did discover by accident, thanks to a drunken Bessonov, that there's a mole at the CIA headquarters, this person could be the one you're after."

"Why go after her?" Callen asked nodding his head in Jordan's direction.

"We got your names from that ditzy secretary at the construction office after you guys left. He was able to find out where you lived and we broke into your apartment. Looking around I found a picture of you and your boyfriend here," Dylan explained, his eyes on Jordan while jabbing his thumb toward Callen. Bessonov was very interested in you Agent Harris, seemed to think he remembered you from somewhere. Maybe you ran into him at one time during a mission or something." He finished.

"I've never seen that man before in my life. I think I'd remember meeting someone who looks the way he does." Jordan insisted; her temper flaring at the thought that Bessonov trampling through her now ruined apartment. Taking a deep breath she continued, "Why save me? You let those other agents die to continue the mission yet you saved me."

"There was nothing I could've done without blowing my cover."

"So they were collateral damage," Callen huffed in disgust.

"Whatever you might think of me or my methods I'm not a heartless monster. The irony is that Bessonov has no problems hurting another man but is squeamish about hurting a woman so he had me do the job. I rigged the apartment to explode after planting her bag at the scene so that everyone would think she'd been killed. He believed this would draw you out so that he could kill you and finish the job. I brought Agent Harris here to wait until this evening when I could get away without raising his suspicion."

"Where is Bessonov now," Sam questioned.

"Sleeping it off most likely, the man loves his vodka." Dylan sneered in response.

"We know Bessonov is the killer but not who ordered the hit. Even if we arrest him, whoever hired him would just send someone else," Callen reasoned, glancing at the group, "He wants me dead, so let's give him what he wants."

"What are you planning," Jordan asked.

"You faked her death now we'll fake mine. We'll follow Bessonov and see if he leads us to the mastermind in all this and you continue getting info on Sokoloff. We have a deal?" Callen stated.

Dylan pondered the plan for a moment, "Deal. Give me your phone and I'll key in my private number. Hate to break up the party but we need to get out of here." He finished, stretching out his hand to Callen.

Callen reached in his pocket to take out his phone, handing it to Dylan.

Dylan punched in the ten digits of the phone number before handing it back to Callen.

"Watch your six." Callen replied taking back his phone as they all made their way out of the cabin.

* * *

Safe House

Living Room:

"What a day, huh?" Sam remarked folding his arms across his chest.

"Tell me about it; still trying to wrap my mind around that Dylan guy being CIA." Callen replied shaking his head.

"So…uh how long?" Sam grinned facing his partner and best friend.

"How long what?" Callen answered; his focus on Jordan who was across the room talking with Tom, Kensi and Deeks.

"Come on G are we really going to play that now?"

Callen chuckled softly, turning his gaze to Sam, "We've uh... been seeing each other for about eight months."

"I knew something was up with you two. Why didn't you tell me, you know I would have been happy for you?" Sam wondered.

"I know, Sam; we… wanted to keep it to ourselves and see how things go with us. We didn't want to make things awkward for the team if it didn't work out," Callen explained.

"Guess I can accept that, and you have seemed a lot less grumpy lately" Sam joked, placing his hand on Callen's shoulder, "Like I said before, I'm happy for you. Jordan is great."

"Thanks," Callen smirked.

"I'm going to go now. We'll put your plan in action tomorrow," Sam finished before moving toward Jordan and the others to say goodnight.

* * *

"So, that Marcovicci guy is really with the CIA?" Kensi asked, her face a mask of shock.

"Yeah and thanks to him, I'm standing here in front of you guys," Jordan replied.

"Glad he's on our side," Deeks added.

"Me too. Now I have to look for another apartment once this is all over," Jordan said, grimacing at the thought.

"I'd say bunk with me until you found a place, but my lease doesn't allow roommates," Kensi responded with obvious regret that she couldn't help Jordan out.

"Thanks, don't worry I'll figure out something. Goodnight and I'll see you two in the morning," Jordan smiled.

"Goodnight," Kensi smiled in response before moving toward the computers for watch duty.

"Sleep tight," Deeks said following his partner.

Jordan scanned the room, wondering if Callen had gone upstairs already. Moving to the stairwell, she bounded up the steps.

* * *

Entering the darkened room she stopped short, a gasp escaping her at seeing Callen sitting on the edge of her bed. He sat watching her as she moved closer until she stood in front of him. Kneeling down, she took his hands into hers.

"Hey," she smiled up at him; her eyes observing how the light of the moon and the shadows played with the lines and angles of his handsome face.

"Hey," he replied his voice low and ragged as he brought his forehead to hers, "Don't ever do that to me again." He finished before enveloping her into a hug. Jordan wrapped her arms around him tightly as he pulled her up and laid her on her back on the bed.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he looked down one her, his finger tracing her jawline.

"I'm sorry I put you guys through all that. Everything happened so fast…" she whispered, guilt filling her at what they must have gone through today.

"What happened after you left headquarters?"

"I found Dylan in the back seat of my car when I went down to the parking garage this afternoon. How he knew it was my car or that I'd be in the office today he wouldn't tell me. Anyway, he told me the same thing he told all of you. I didn't believe him at first…thought that it might be a trick. Dylan also said that he needed to speak to you, for me to take him to you. I refused; I wasn't going to put you or the rest of the team in danger. That's when he said something that made me believe him." She explained, placing her hand on his cheek. "He mentioned Hetty."

"Hetty? But, she saw the picture of Dylan and didn't seem to recognize him," Callen countered, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"He didn't elaborate; maybe he'd changed a lot since she'd last seen him."

"Maybe," Callen muttered not entirely convinced.

"He followed me to my place in his car. I went in first and then he came in after waiting five minutes. The place was already rigged; I left my bag with my identification and everything inside. We slipped out the back door; I got into the backseat of his car and laid low on the floor. That's when I heard that awful explosion. He had a device that would trigger the explosion manually. Then we drove to the cabin.

Callen nodded his head, taking in the information she gave him.

"Did you mean it when you said that you knew I wouldn't come without backup," he questioned, his gaze locked with hers.

"Yes I did, I also knew Sam wouldn't let you go into an unknown situation without backup," she admitted with a cheeky grin.

Callen chuckled at that, "When Hetty gave us the news; so many thoughts…memories went through my mind. I remembered our first date."

"Our first date huh?" Jordan grinned.

"Yeah…It started out pretty good but then went downhill."

"It wasn't that bad," she countered; giggling at the incredulous look on his face. "You looked very handsome that night in your suit and tie. I thought the blue shirt really set off your eyes. The roses were also a nice touch."

"Thanks, glad you approved" he smirked, "We got to the restaurant, a four star one I might add, only to find out that there'd been a fire in the kitchen so the place was closed."

"Right, then we went to another place and had to wait about twenty minutes for our table," she added shaking her head at the memory.

"We finally get to our table and it seemed to take forever for our food to arrive. I was sure you were getting pissed," Callen added stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"Nah, I was with good company. I remember our food finally came and with the first mouthful I bit down on something hard and cracked my wisdom tooth."

"We rushed right to the emergency room. The doctor gave you a shot to ease the pain and some medicine until you could get to the dentist. I was sure that this was it; you'd never want to go out with me again. Then the craziest thing happened… I drove you back to your place and before you got out of the car; you smiled and it must have hurt like hell you kissed me on the lips," he finished kissing the tip of her nose.

"It was worth the pain," she answered softly as he dipped his head to capture her lips with his own. Tearing his lips away from hers he trailed hot kisses down the side of her neck.

"Hard to think when you do that," Jordan moaned; her back arching as he kissed his way down her chest, his fingers unbuttoning the buttons of her blouse.

"That's the idea," he teased, pushing her blouse off over her shoulders.

Suddenly there was a gurgling sound; both Callen and Jordan looked down at her flat stomach and back at each other before laughing.

"Think there's anything downstairs in the kitchen," Jordan asked.

"I think there might be some leftover pizza in the fridge. I'm actually a little hungry too," Callen replied gazing into her eyes.

"What," she asked cupping the side of his face.

"I love you, Jordan Olivia Harris," he replied giving her a sweet kiss on the lips.

"I love you too, G Callen," she answered swallowing over the lump in her throat.

"Let's get downstairs before Deeks eats up the rest of the pizza," Callen smirked as they both got up from the bed and raced downstairs.

TBC…

Sorry it took so long. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review, more coming soon.


	4. Chapter 4

HALO PART 4

The next morning, Jordan quickly found herself explaining the events that led to her "non-death" to Hetty and Granger in the bullpen. Callen stood by her side along with Sam and Tom, offering additional information.

"So this Dylan person claims to be part of a Black Ops within the CIA?" Granger spoke up, casting questioning eyes on Jordan.

"Yes. He said that he'd been undercover for the past six months trying to bring down a Russian mobster by the name of Denis Sokoloff, who is rumored to have ties with a fringe terrorist group in the U.S." Jordan responded; holding his gaze.

"Dylan was the only name he gave you?" Hetty replied looking puzzled.

"That was it. Wouldn't say if it was a first or last name," Callen answered, focusing his attention on Hetty's face. He tried to find any hint of recognition from her at the name, but found nothing from her expression. This was Hetty Lange after all; a master at putting up the mask when needed.

Callen wondered how Dylan knew Hetty. Was he one of her 'orphans' too; the Grace Stevens situation still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Granger blew a breath through his teeth, turning his attention to Sam and Tom, "How did he seem to you two?"

Tom was silent for a moment as if considering his answer, "Seemed to be on the up and up; but I think there's more to his story."

"I agree; not sure he's telling us everything," Sam added as Callen and Jordan nodded in agreement.

Granger turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the boatshed, "I'll make a few calls and see what I can find out about this mission and this Dylan character."

Hetty waited a beat before speaking again, "Miss Harris, has your family been notified?"

"I spoke with them last night and with Agent Ross this morning, he's the only one at the FBI that knows I'm still alive."

Hetty steepled her fingers beneath her chin, "I see. So, what is the next course of action?"

"We're going to give Bessonov what he wants…my death. Or at least he'll think I'm dead," Callen explained. "Once he believes I'm out of the way; Jordan and I will follow him and Dylan back to Sokoloff. I'm thinking either he or Bessonov will lead us to the mastermind."

Hetty nodded, "Very good. Well then; it appears we have a death to orchestrate," she remarked before reaching for the phone.

* * *

Next Day -Hotel Room:

Dylan sat at the table by the window reading the paper. Zakhar sat across from him working on a crossword puzzle and listening to Prokofiev on his iPod; the music was set on continuous loop. Dylan felt like he was slowly going insane.

His thoughts went back to the events of the cabin and his talk with the NCIS team; He had the feeling that they didn't trust him completely which was understandable.

Agent Harris had asked why he'd saved her when he'd let the other agents die. It was true that he was protecting his cover; something he'd have to answer for come judgment day. It was also true that he didn't like to hurt women; the very idea made his stomach turn. The main reason, if he were completely honest, was that he didn't want another woman's death on his conscience. The sudden vibrating of his cell phone brought him out of his morose thoughts. Putting his paper down on the table; he slid his chair back and headed for the door.

Zakhar glanced up from his puzzle, his ice colored gaze following Dylan's movements, "Where are you going?"

Dylan looked back with his hand resting on the doorknob, "Just going to check out the vending machines."

Zakhar shook his head in reproach, "You're going to ruin your teeth with that junk."

Dylan responded by rolling his eyes and exiting the room. Turning left he moved down the hallway to where the vending machines were located. Taking his cell from his pocket he read the text message on the screen from Agent Callen. Turning the phone off and slipping it back into his pocket, he bought a bag of chips from the machine and then headed back to the room.

* * *

The Rooftop Bar and Grill: Evening

Callen sat on one of the stools at the end of the bar nursing a bottle of beer. From his position he had a good view of the entrance. His eyes roamed the room; taking in the patrons who'd come in for a cold drink and hot music on a Friday night. Some were dancing; some were at the tables with food and drinks while others sat at the bar. Deeks was acting as bartender.

"They're here," Kensi's voice sounded in Callen's ear piece.

"Show time," he whispered taking a pull of his beer.

A moment later the door opened. Callen casually slid his eyes to the entrance as both Dylan and Zakhar sauntered into the bar. Dylan gave him a brief glance then turned his attention straight ahead. The two men went to a nearby table and sat down. They soon flagged a waitress to give their order. Zakhar was dressed in a suit; his long coat draped over the back of his chair. Dylan was dressed more casually in a button down shirt and jeans.

When their drinks arrived, Callen decided to give them a few minutes. He took another sip of his drink, draining the bottle, and then he counted backwards from one-hundred in Russian. After reaching number one he raised his hand to signal Deeks, "HEY BARKEEP! ANOTHER ROUND," he called out a little louder than necessary making sure the two men noticed him.

Deeks moved closer to where Callen was seated, a look of disapproval etched on his face, "Look dude, I think you've had enough. I'm cutting you off."

"Aw come on, I haven't had that mush…" he slurred moving his arm to knock over his bottle.

Deeks leaned forward placing his hands on top of the bar table, "You've had five. Why don't you go home and sleep it off."

"I thought bartenders were supposed to be friendly," Callen smirked patting the other man on the arm.

"Guess I'm not one of them. Now leave your keys and I'll call you a cab." Deeks growled, putting his face close to Callen's.

Callen backed up, sliding off the stool and giving a saucy salute, "Don't bother…only live a few blocks from here so I'll walk. Your bar is lame and the beer sucks anyway," he finished before stumbling to the exit and out the door.

Outside, the night was clear with a blanket of stars in the sky and a large crescent moon. Turning left he sauntered toward his car that was parked a block from the bar.

"They've left the bar and are tailing you." Kensi announced.

Callen made a show of stumbling down the sidewalk toward apartment complex. Coming to a darkened alleyway he stopped at the entrance and placed his hand on the side of the building and mimicked dry heaving. His ears picked up the sounds of footsteps coming closer. He moved into the alley that was dimly lit by an outside light attached to one of the buildings. Just beneath the light was a door that probably served as a back exit from the building. Moving toward the back of the alley where a large trash dumpster sat by the gate.

"Keller. Or should I say G. Callen," came a Russian accented voice behind him. Callen slowly turned around facing both Dylan and Bessonov. Callen stared at both men, noting that Bessonov with his pale face, colorless eyes and thin, bloodless lips was even uglier up close.

"W…what? I think you've got the wrong guy. Name's not Keller or…Callen was it? Never heard of those names before," he insisted backing up with hands raised until he made contact with the dumpster.

"How pathetic; we know who you are," Bessonov sneered producing a gun with a silencer from the pocket of his long overcoat and aiming it at Callen's chest.

"Wait…I have money…" Callen pleaded.

The gunman merely scoffed, "Поздоровайтесь с вашим Агентом подруги шлюхи Харрисом." (Say hello to your whore girlfriend Agent Harris.)

Callen's face twisted in rage, "You bastard!" he cried out as he started to lunge toward Zakhar. He heard a pop and the bullet hit him square in the chest propelling him backwards. He sank to the ground as the blood poured from his wound.

Dylan stepped forward, squatting down next to where Callen lay, placing two fingers on Callen's neck to find a pulse. He turned his eyes to Zakhar, "He's dead."

Zakhar's lips formed a cruel smile as he pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket. Pushing the required numbers in; he brought the phone to his ear. "It's done," Zakhar whispered to the person on the other end. Sliding the cell back into his pocket, he motioned to Dylan to follow him. Within minutes there was a blood curdling scream coming from the alleyway the two men had just vacated.

* * *

OPS:

"…the scene of a horrific murder earlier this evening. The body of a man was discovered in this ally with a single gunshot wound to the chest…"

Jordan stood next to a very much alive G Callen listening to the news reporter on the large screen; the other team members were milled around the room.

"This should convince him that I'm out of the picture. Good scream by the way Nell," Callen stated, glancing at the petite intelligence analyst.

Nell swiveled her seat around and smiled, "Thanks."

"What do we have on Denis Sokoloff, Eric" Callen asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Denis Sokoloff, forty years old and CEO of a software company with offices both in California and in Russia. There were allegations of ties with the Russian mob but nothing ever proven." Eric stated bringing up a picture of Sokoloff on the smart board. He was a fair skinned round faced man, with small brown eyes, a large nose and very thin lips. His dark brown hair was slicked back and parted to the side.

"He also sponsors a non-profit youth organization called `Project Tomorrow' which helps newly immigrated Russian teens become acclimated to life in the United States." A picture of the group's flyer appeared on screen showing pictures of their members and the various services they provided-counseling; tutoring; activities such as computer training, or athletic activities like boxing or wrestling.

Sam moved a little closer to the screen; studying the image of the pamphlet, "`Project Tomorrow' huh? So there's nothing out of the ordinary with this organization?"

"None that I could find," Eric replied, pushing his glasses back up on top of his nose.

Callen's phone buzzed. Reaching into his pocket he pulled the phone out and glanced at the display screen. It was a single text that read `returning to Russia tomorrow.'

"Dylan and Bessonov are going back to Russia tomorrow," Callen announced to the group, "Any new activity with our friend Collingwood?"

Nell began pushing buttons on her tablet, "Wow…uh… Collingwood was found dead in his apartment yesterday afternoon from carbon monoxide poisoning from a broken gas line on the stove. Authorities believe the death was accidental."

Jordan turned the bit of information over in her mind for a moment, "Or made to look accidental," her eyes finding Callen's and seeing that he had the same thought.

"Now the only one left related to the case is Anton Polzin," Tom added, tapping his finger against his chin.

"Let's keep an eye out for him too…Jordan and I will fly out to Russia as soon as possible," Callen added.

"I agree the sooner the better," Hetty chimed in, "Mr. Manea, I trust you still have your pilot license."

Tom's lips parted to form a knowing smile, "Yes I do. My plane is also at the hanger just waiting to be flown."

Jordan turned to face her friend and former partner; her jaw dropping slightly in surprise, "I didn't know you had a plane!"

"Bought it about a year ago," Tom explained.

"Good. Ms. Blye you will also be accompanying them on this mission," Hetty added before turning her attention to Jordan, "Ms. Harris, are you familiar with the Russian language?"

"I've been studying it a bit."

"Let's hear something in Russian," Hetty replied; clasping her hands in front of herself.

"Я не быстр на языке все же. Но, это - то, что я имею в настоящее время." (I'm not fluent in the language yet. But, this is what I have at the moment.)

The corner of Hetty's mouth lifted in a slight smile, "Excellent. Your command of the language is most impressive."

"Thank you Hetty."

Hetty addressed the group again, "Goodnight everyone and safe journey to the four of you," she finished; turning her gaze to Callen, Jordan, Kensi and Tom.

When the room began to clear out, Callen noticed Hetty motioning for him to come to her.

"Something wrong, Hetty?" Callen asked when he reached her side.

"No, I just wanted to say good luck and be careful."

"Don't worry, we'll be fine and we'll find who started this mess," he smirked.

Hetty gave him a slight smirk of her own, "Of that I have no doubt." She was silent for a brief moment before continuing, "Ms. Harris's Russian is exceptional. You've taught her well."

Callen's brows rose in surprise.

"Her accent, sounds very much like yours," she finished, that slight smile still on her lips as she turned and headed for the exit.

Callen could only shake his head in amazement. Heading out of OPS; he spied Jordan and Sam talking with one another.

As if feeling Callen's presence; Sam turned his head, "Hey, partner," he called out as Callen moved closer to them. "What were you and Hetty talking about?"

"She just said to be careful and have a safe trip."

"Yeah, you guys get to go to Russia while I'm stuck with Deeks and Granger," Sam groused.

"Come on, Deeks is not that bad. Give him a chance," Jordan gently admonished.

"Granger on the other hand; I feel for you buddy," Callen smirked.

Sam rolled his eyes, "OK, I'll give Deeks a chance. But, if he gets on my nerves to much I'll send him to Russia without the benefit of a plane," he chuckled. Turning his attention to Jordan he turned serious, "Take care of yourselves out there and watch out for my partner."

"I promise to hand him back to you in one piece," she smiled.

* * *

Safe House:

Jordan flopped down on the couch with Callen sitting down next to her.

"Long day," she groaned, stretching out the kinks in her back.

Callen wrapped his hand around her fingers, "Very. Glad our little show worked."

"It sounded realistic. A little too realistic," she admitted with a wry grin, "It wasn't easy listening in on everything and then the gunshot."

Giving her fingers a gentle squeeze he leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on her lips, "Sorry you had to hear what that bastard said."

"Don't worry about it. I've been called worse," she chuckled.

"I uh… meant to tell you before; Sam knows and is happy for us."

"How do you feel about that? About other people knowing we're together?" Jordan asked; shifting around on the couch to face Callen.

"I'm fine with it," he grinned, gazing into her eyes, "What about you? You OK with it?"

A soft smile formed on her lips and her eyes sparkled, "More than OK."

Morning came and the team of Callen, Jordan, Kensi and Tom arrived at the hangar at ten o'clock sharp. All boarded the Cessna as Tom headed to the front of the plane as sat in the pilot's chair. Next to him was his co-pilot Paul Sommers.

Callen, Jordan and Kensi put their bags in the overhead compartments. Jordan was given clothes by Hetty with the strong stipulation that they be returned unharmed. Callen and Jordan sat next to each other with Jordan next to the window. Kinsey sat in the seat across from them reading the paper. As the plane began to taxi the runway and lifted up into the sky, Jordan looked out the window as the ground grew farther and farther away. She said a tiny prayer that this mission would be successful.

TBC:

Hope you all liked this chapter; it took me forever to write it. I may wait and see how season 5 goes before doing the next one. I want to follow cannon even though I know Jordan doesn't exist in cannon. Please review I love reviews.


End file.
